


Just One Night

by Taybay14



Series: Saving people, writing prompts [12]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dystopian society, Forbidden Love, Homophobic Language, Homophobic Society, Sexism, Slow Build, Slurs, mentions of hurting/killing people, pretty much a ton of bigotry (not from Dean/Cas), raacism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-14 19:07:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18482518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taybay14/pseuds/Taybay14
Summary: This is for my numbered prompt post on tumblr:13 & 26 (Dystopian Society combined with "Spend the night with me... just one night.")This is set in a dystopian society - Kind of like Hunger Games but I haven’t read/watched those in forever so not really. The Games are a thing and are mentioned but aren’t in the story at all. The society is very oppressive and segregated. Different races/ethnicities are divided into the different districts. Sexual orientation/gender is forced to be the heterosexual/cisgender. Anyone who interacts with other races, participates in lgbtq sex acts/gender acts/etc. is put into the games - Castiel is a young man (18/19 ish) in the technology district. Dean is one of the high ranking government soldiers assigned to the district to keep things in order.





	Just One Night

The subtle crunch of gravel beneath Dean’s feet is a comfort to him by now, just like the heavy weight of the assault rifle in his hands. Since his promotion, he doesn’t get to go on patrols very often. He’s always bogged down with leadership shit. Lately, he’s been trying to hop on as many patrol shifts as possible, even if it means working all day and night. It soothes him to have his boots on the ground. To see his district. 

 

He scans the area on a constant look, his eyes darting left to right. Nothing significant has happened in district three in months, when those two women were caught together. Dean’s best friend, and right hand man, Benny, was who caught them that night. He got upgraded from the barracks to his own government paid apartment as a reward. The two women will be in the games next month. 

 

“Got laid last night,” Benny tells him as they walk side by side, boots creating a steady rhythm as they turn into their final neighborhood before they have to start their patrol route all over again. 

 

“Oh, really?”

 

“Pretty little thing from the company down the street. She’s a security system developer.”

 

“Nice. She a good fuck?” 

 

Benny gets distracted by a young boy in the usual district three blue shirt and a ratty pair of jeans. He’s playing with another boy his age and they’re holding hands as they run across the grass, giggling. When Dean realizes Benny’s heading toward them, he grabs his friend and tugs him back a step. “Harmless. They’re children.”

 

“Doesn’t mean they don’t know they’re fags. At that age I was already kissing girls, and thinkin’ of doing a lot more.”

 

“We’ll keep an eye on ‘em.” Dean keeps walking, his heart racing as he waits to see if Benny will join him. Dean’s his commanding officer, so he can order Benny to leave the boys alone, but that’d raise questions. It’s much better if Benny chooses to do it himself. He releases a puff of breath in relief when his friend leaves the two boys behind. Truth is, they do have feelings for each other. Dean saw them kissing last week in the forest, down at the fishing hole nearby. It had made him smile. He couldn’t get himself to take them into custody. 

 

His heart barely has time to relax before the next wave of panic sets in. This time, it’s because they’re turning onto the street where Castiel Novak lives. The young man is a factory worker but receiving schooling to be an engineer. He wears blue shirts covered in oil most of the time, with a nice pair of black jeans that hug his ass beautifully. He has messy, curly hair that Dean bets is real soft. And incredible blue eyes that pop right out of his face, especially if he’s cleaned himself up and put on one of his nicer blue shirts, or his favorite blue sweater when it gets cold out.  _ Beautiful _ . Every time Dean sees him, he worries a neon sign flashes above his head, letting Benny and everyone else know who he really is. 

 

“Fuck, I need to piss,” Benny grumbles. Since the fucking universe hates Dean Winchester, Benny heads straight for Castiel’s house specifically, walking toward it with a purpose. They’re allowed to do whatever they please, mostly unchecked, as soldiers here. They can demand food. Shelter. Water. Bathrooms. Sex, though Dean isn’t a fan of that. He doesn’t believe in raping anyone, even if it’s technically legal. Thankfully Benny agrees on this one or Dean may not be able to work with the guy. Every girl his friend fucks is more than willing. Of course, that partly has to do with the fact that if they can get him to marry them, they win a ticket out of this hell hole and into the capital. 

 

It’s late, after dinner, and Dean knows that Castiel will be there. He schools his expression and thinks of the last games, when he watched those two men in love have to fight for their lives. He refuses to be one of them. And shit, as a government employee, the capital would really make an example out of Dean. He’d be lucky if he even got to be in the games instead of some other form of punishment. Something extra to make sure the rest of the soldiers stay in line. 

 

Besides, Castiel probably isn’t even gay.  _ He’d be a dipshit if he was. _ Dean laughs softly to himself. As if it’s something Castiel could decide. He would be just as much stuck with it as Dean is, if he were to be gay. The government can say what they want, but it ain’t a choice. Lord knows Dean’s tried. 

 

“Oh. Hello.” Castiel flinches when he sees the two men. His eyes flick over to Dean and Dean notices that he relaxes, as if Dean’s presence is preferable to Benny’s. That makes Dean nervous. As if Castiel can sense that he’s a traitor, that he’s a hypocrite.

 

“I need to piss. Move.”

 

“Ben,” Dean chides, giving his friend a dirty look. 

 

Rolling his eyes, Benny still shoves past Castiel, but he at least mumbles, “Thanks.”

 

Dean rocks on his heels. Sometimes, the owner will invite him in too. Other times, they don’t want him in there. He’s unsure what will happen here but he thinks it’s best if he stays outside. 

 

“Do you - uh,” Castiel tugs at his hair and Dean notices he’s in that pretty sweater. Dean’s favorite. The knitted one that looks soft and warm and is just a shade darker than his eyes, which makes them seem brighter than normal. “Do you need to go?”

 

“No. Thank you.”

 

“Are you thirsty or anything?”

 

Dean gives him a gentle smile. “I’m not like Benny. I can buy my own food and use public bathrooms. Thank you, though.”

 

“I’m inviting you. You aren’t taking advantage if I invite you.”

 

“Really. It’s okay.”  _ Jesus, dude. Stop. I can already feel myself fucking falling in love with you. The last thing I need is entering your home. _

 

“It’s freezing outside. It’s snowing. Come in.” Castiel reaches out like he’s going to grab Dean and pull him into the house but then his hand freezes and he gasps, realizing he was about to touch a soldier. Something like that would get him flogged in the town square. 

 

Not wanting to make him afraid that he’s pissed, Dean nods and steps into the house. “Sure. Thank you.”

 

Since his boots are on and he doesn’t feel like taking them off, and he’s not an asshole like Benny who’s going to track slush through the whole fucking house, he stays in the small mud room. 

 

“I have coffee. Or cocoa?” Castiel says quietly, much more shy now that he almost got himself into a shit ton of trouble. 

 

Sensing that the guy needs to do  _ something _ , Dean smiles and says, “Cocoa would be nice. Thank you.”

 

“I’ll, uh-” the man looks around his house and Dean wonders if he’s worried about leaving him alone to snoop. He wonders what there is to find. There’s almost always something, if you look hard enough. “I’ll be right back.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Dean checks his watch, grimacing when he sees that they’re already two minutes behind their patrol schedule. They’ll have to make the time up somehow. At least it’s only an hour or so until his shift is over. Then he can collapse in his government house up on the hill, the same hill where the barracks and apartments of the lower ranking soldiers are, where all the soldiers can live and look down on the little people in district three, and watch some TV while he drinks a beer. Or maybe some whiskey. Being near Castiel is making him need some whiskey. 

 

When Benny returns, he gives Dean a strange look but says nothing about the fact that he entered the house. Dean very rarely does that. Only in emergencies. 

 

“Ready, Winchester?” 

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Oh, wait!” Castiel hurries toward them with a travel mug of hot chocolate. “Sorry it took so long.”

 

Benny stares at the mug, then at Dean, an eyebrow raised in question. 

 

“Hot chocolate. He made me some,” Dean tells him.

 

With a sharp nod, Benny glares at Castiel and asks, “Where’s mine?”

 

Castiel flinches and takes an instinctive step away from him. “Oh. I’m so sorry. I can make you some, sir. Just wait.”

 

“Don’t feel like waiting. It’s fine.”

 

All Dean has to say is a quiet, “Sergeant Laffitte,” and Benny is grumbling a “Thank you once again. Have a good night.”

 

Dean takes the coffee mug and promises to return it some time, a promise that makes Castiel’s eyes widen and his cheeks flush pink. 

 

By the time Dean’s patrol shift is over, he’s nearly forgotten about Castiel all together. They dealt with a thief down at the bakery, a man who was caught beating his wife, and a little boy who threw rocks at his school building in protest of having to attend. The first one ended with the man getting his hand cut off. The second ended with a summons for flogging. The third ended in Benny and Dean trying damn hard not to laugh, because they’ve been there, and a stern scolding. 

 

Dean gets inside his house and takes off his backpack, emptying it of his gear so he can clean and restock for the next day. That’s when he reaches in and grabs the silver travel mug he had stuffed in there once it was empty. He methodically brings it to the sink, washes it, and puts it back in his pack. 

 

When he finally sits down with his whiskey and turns the TV on, he’s exhausted and jittery at the same time. It was the first time he got to interact with Castiel in a private setting like that. If Benny hadn’t been with him, he could have lingered. Drank the cocoa with him. Listened to his soft, grumbly voice. Kissed him. 

 

Dean growls at himself and switches the channel to the capital’s new station specifically designated for news about The Broken- a term he hates, but prefers over The Fags as some still call them. An anchor is talking about the newest members to the games; a young man aged 21 from the seventh district and his lover, a man of 28 who was his neighbor. It shows them in chains being walked to the capitol building. People are throwing stones at them. Food. Shit. All Dean can focus on is how they’re almost within touching distance of each other. He watches as they keep giving each other looks. The younger one is hit in the head with a stone and nearly falls over, a soldier yanking him to his feet. Blood pours down the side of his face. His lover cocks his head and gives him a tight, comforting smile so full of love and comfort and meaning that Dean’s chest aches. Even now, as their world falls apart, as they’re sentenced to a month of torture before an almost certain death in the games, they can’t get themselves to stop loving each other. 

 

What terrifies Dean is that for the first time in his life, watching this channel doesn’t make his urges stop. Instead, it makes him want to go to Castiel’s right now and kiss the hell out of him.  _ What’s the point of living life anyway if it means you’ll never experience love like the men on the screen? _

  
  


\-------

  
  


Castiel has been watching Colonel Winchester since he was assigned to district three. The first time he saw the man, his breath literally caught in his throat. Two hours later, the Colonel was whipping a guy bloody, establishing his new reign over the district. The man being flogged was a gender traitor - a man who believed he was a woman, and dressed like one. After he was whipped by the Colonel, he was sent to the capital. He died a week later in the games. 

 

Castiel spent months trying to convince himself to hate Colonel Winchester. He hasn’t seen him do anything like that since, which almost makes things worse in a way. It would be easier to hate the man if he had to watch him do those terrible things every day. Instead, though, Colonel Winchester is the guy behind the scenes. The one who decides what happens to who and when and where. Still worthy of hate, but harder to summon inside Castiel. 

 

Then, last week, Castiel saw the Colonel catch two little boys kissing. Castiel had been out picking berries near the fishing hole when he saw the boys. Before he could tell the boys to stop that and be more careful, a noise to his right had him hiding behind a fallen tree. He had watched as Colonel Winchester stood just feet away from the boys, who were too busy to notice someone watching them from the edge of the trees. It had taken everything in him not to shout for the boys to run so they could maybe have a chance to be saved. 

 

But then the Colonel had turned his back to the boys and walked away like he saw nothing.  _ The weirdest part? _ He was smiling to himself. It made Castiel both afraid and thrilled. He was flooded with a million questions. The moment Colonel Winchester stepped into his house yesterday, he wanted to attack him with question after question. It took everything he had to stay quiet. 

 

Castiel’s surprised he even survived the day without getting himself killed in the factory, since his mind was so distracted by finally getting a chance to see the Colonel up close. He was even more beautiful than he was from afar. He has freckles. Thousands of individual freckles. And his eyes are green. From a distance, they seemed hazel, but up close they’re a brilliant green. 

 

And there was a desire in the way he looked at Castiel. A desire he wanted to pursue more than anything. 

 

_ God, you’re such a fucking idiot, Castiel. He’d murder you if you ever pursued him. He’d get your ass thrown in the games - or worse.  _

 

A knock on Castiel’s door distracts him from his worried thoughts. Knowing it’s probably Martha, the old lady that lives next door and is constantly asking him for one thing or another to borrow, he doesn’t bother to make himself presentable. He’s just gotten out of the shower, so he swaggers to the door in nothing but his soft gray sweatpants, avoiding putting a blue shirt on for as long as possible. He’s fucking sick of that color. Sick of being told what has to be on his torso. He hates his own eyes, can’t even look in the mirror anymore, because they're blue.

 

With a friendly smile, he opens the door and prepares himself for Martha. The last thing he expected to find was Colonel Winchester standing in his doorway. In his casual uniform, the one he wears around the district when not actively patrolling, holding Castiel’s travel mug. Castiel gasps and steps back, wrapping his arms around his torso.

 

“I’m so sorry. I was, uh- I was expecting someone else. Sorry.”

 

“Lady friend coming by?”

 

“No.” When the Colonel’s eyebrows raise, Castiel hurries, “I mean, not a guy either. No guy. I’m not - no guy. My neighbor. Martha. She’s the old lady. Always comin’ to bother me.”

 

Colonel Winchester smirks. “Calm down. Not an interrogation. Just came to bring this back to ya and say thanks.”

 

“Oh. Great. Yeah.”

 

“It was delicious.”

 

“Thanks. My mom’s recipe.” Castiel nibbles on his bottom lip. He’s trying not to stare at how gorgeous the man is, but he’s worried if he avoids looking at him too much then he’ll look suspicious. And like the idiot that he is, he finds himself making things much worse by saying, “Come in. I could make more.”

 

Colonel Winchester chuckles. “Actually, if you have some coffee, I’d kill for some. It’s been a long day.”

 

“Yeah. Of course. I can make some coffee.” Castiel moves out of the way, letting the Colonel walk in. He watches in amazement as the man removes his boots and his uniform jacket. Now, he’s just in plain black pants and a black shirt that hugs his muscles in all the right ways. There’s something about him being comfortable like that in Castiel’s house that makes Castiel shiver. 

 

Trying to hide his shaking hands, Castiel shoves them into his pant pockets and leads Dean into the kitchen. “I’ll just start a pot. Then I can throw a shirt on quick.”

 

“Doesn’t bother me,” Dean drawls.

 

“Oh.” Castiel fills the coffee pot with water, shaking harder now.  _ Is he imagining the heat in Dean’s voice? The desire? Should he put the shirt on anyway? Is this a test? Does staying shirtless prove he’s gay?  _

 

He turns the coffee pot on and faces the Colonel. The man is leaning in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. It makes his biceps bulge against the tight fabric of his shirt. Castiel wants to rip it to shreds and kiss every fucking inch of the exposed body beneath. He’s only ever had a love interest once; when he was seventeen. It lasted two months and they were awkward and clumsy and they got way too nervous and ended things before any real love developed between them. Still, though, it provided him with enough of a past to be able to picture a fairly detailed fantasy starring the Colonel. 

 

Then Castiel sees the gun attached to the Colonel’s hip and remembers the danger. He licks his dry lips and meets the man’s eyes. The Colonel definitely knows what he was thinking.  _ Definitely _ . He can see it in the way his green eyes have narrowed, his pink lips tilting into a smirk. Castiel tenses up. 

 

“I - uh, you’re-” Castiel clenches his fists, trying hard not to whimper in fear. “Just looking at your - uh - your clothes. You look different - ya know - out of uniform.”

 

All the man does is chuckle softly. Castiel keeps rambling, trying to save his fucking life with every word. “I like girls. I have a girlfriend. Well, had. We broke up. But not because I’m gay! Just-”

 

“Castiel. Relax.” The Colonel walks forward until he’s only hovering an inch or two away from him. He reaches out and runs a hand along Castiel’s arm, watching intently to see his reaction. Castiel tries like hell but he can’t stop the shiver that rushes through his body, and the soft breath he exhales right after. “You haven’t had a girlfriend, have you, Castiel?”

 

“I would never lie to you, Colonel Winchester. I swear.”

 

“Dean. Please.” The man smiles, his hand skimming along Castiel’s bare arm again. “Call me Dean.”

 

“Dean.” Castiel closes his eyes, a tear leaking out of one. “I swear. Please. I’m not - I swear. Please. Don’t -”

 

“Don’t touch you? You really don’t want me to touch you?”

 

“Please,” Castiel chokes on a sob. “Please. I’m not gay, Sir. I swear.”

 

Lips close over his mouth and Castiel gasps. For a brief moment, he melts. Then his eyes shoot open. Dean’s eyes are closed, like he doesn’t know that Castiel is panicking. He tears his face away, crying even harder now. This is a sick game. He doesn’t like it one bit. “Please. You kissed me! You kissed me! I didn’t kiss you. Please. I’m not-”

 

“You are.” Dean wipes the tears from Castiel's cheek and tilts his head. “I am too.”

 

Castiel stares at him in pure confusion. “You’re what?”

 

“Gay.”

 

“But - you can’t - I mean - you’re a Colonel.”

 

“Yup. I think you know just as much as I do that it’s not exactly something you can turn on and off.”

 

Castiel wipes at his face with a rough hand and places his other hand on Dean’s chest, carefully pushing him away. “I want you to leave. Please.”

 

Dean’s eyes flash. “It’s okay, Castiel. You won’t get in trouble.”

 

“Leave. Now.” 

 

He watches as Dean’s jaw ticks. His body begins to shake again and despite his best efforts, more tears leak from his eyes. When Dean looks at him, he can see pain and worry on the man’s face. “Cas, hey. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have - I’m sorry. Please don’t tell anyone.”

 

“I won’t. I swear.” 

 

“Okay.” Dean backs away from him, his face bright red. “I apologize again, Castiel. Have a good night.”

 

“Yeah. Uh - good night.” 

 

The second he hears his door close, Castiel slumps to the floor of his kitchen and begins to sob. 

 

Either he proved that he is in fact gay, because Castiel’s pretty fucking sure he accidently kissed Dean back at first, and now Dean has evidence to report him, or he proved that he isn’t but Dean is gay, and now Castiel is a liability for knowing. Either scenario ends with Castiel in the games, or worse. No one will believe him if he says Dean came onto him. Why would they? Dean’s a fucking Colonel. He’s nothing. 

 

He’s convinced he’ll wake up to the soldiers coming for him. He’ll wake up to Dean standing in the doorway, grinning. Maybe even laughing. Castiel cries himself to sleep, wrapped up in his favorite knitted sweater, shaking violently. 

  
  


\------

  
  


_ Fucking idiot. That’s what you are, Dean. A fucking idiot. _ Dean avoids Castiel’s house for a week, returning to his paperwork and his office. Hiding. He waits every day for the guy to report him. He has a strong feeling that Castiel wouldn’t. One, he really does think the young man is gay too, he just thinks he’s too paranoid to give into Dean. Two, he’s pretty sure his commanders would believe him over Castiel, which would get Castiel at least thrown into the games for treason, if not killed outright. 

 

Still, he’s panicking. 

 

Then Benny is fucking sick on Saturday and Dean has to do his patrol shift. He grits his teeth every time he walks by Castiel’s house, forcing himself not to look in that direction. Forcing himself to act as if nothing ever happened. 

 

A snow storm begins just before midnight, when Chuck comes to relieve Dean. Dean shakes off some of the snow that’s accumulated on his shoulders and head and starts his trek back home. Usually he’d drive down to the district but he had wanted more time walking today. He needed it to think. As he walks the final time past Castiel’s house, a voice calls to him. He whips around at the sound of his first name to find Castiel standing on the sidewalk in nothing but a sweater and jeans. 

 

Dean glances around before slowly walking toward him. “Mr. Novak?”

 

“Can you, uh, can you come inside, Colonel? I need to report a break in.” 

 

It takes Dean a second, but then he catches on. “Of course. Lead the way.”

 

Castiel leads him inside, his eyes fixed on the rifle in his hands. Dean didn’t have it last time and he can tell that it’s making Castiel nervous. That’s why, even though it’s pretty much rule number fucking one, Dean puts his rifle down right away. Then he takes off his boots and shrugs out of his uniform jacket. It feels good to take off the heavy, armored jacket. 

 

When he looks at Castiel, he shakes his head in disapproval. The boys cheeks and nose are bright pink from the cold and he’s shivering hard enough to make his teeth clatter. “You should have had a jacket on,” Dean scolds. 

 

“I saw you coming and hurried out.”

 

“How’d you know my shift was over?”

 

Castiel looks away. “You were moving in the opposite direction, meaning you were headed home instead of patrolling.”

 

A fluttery feeling warms the center of Dean’s stomach at the idea that Castiel pays that much attention to him. “Did you really have a break in, Castiel?”

 

“No.” Castiel steps closer to him, looking up at him through his lashes. “Are you really gay, Dean?”

 

“Yes.” 

 

“Good.” Castiel lifts himself up on his toes and grabs Dean’s face, kissing him hard. For a few seconds Dean allows him to do this before taking back the control. He crashes him into the nearest wall and immediately grabs his thighs, yanking him up so his legs wrap around his waist. He pins Castiel to the wall with his hips so he can use his hands to tug at his messy hair and kiss him even harder. 

 

When he breaks for a gasp of air, he finds Castiel staring up at him with wide eyes full of wonder. “What?” Dean asks with a soft laugh. 

 

“You.” Castiel cups his face. The way he holds him, like he’s fragile and beautiful, does something to Dean’s chest that he both hates and loves. “This is bad. We could get in trouble.”

 

“Yes. We could.” Dean presses a single kiss to Castiel’s lips before whispering. “So worth it.” 

 

Even though they’re talking about the possibility of death, or even worse, Castiel finds himself nodding in agreement, breathlessly saying, “Yeah. Worth it.” 

  
  


\-----

  
  


Castiel paces in front of his door a week after their first kiss. Dean’s come over every night that week, usually around two or three in the morning, when no one would be paying attention. It means that Castiel is exhausted every day at work but he doesn’t care in the least. They’ve kissed so much he feels like his lips permanently belong to Dean Winchester, and he’s hoping like hell that tonight they do more. 

 

Even though it’s just after two, Castiel has food in the oven and candles lit and a bottle of wine out. When he hears the knock on his door, he’s nearly giddy. It takes a lot of self control not to tackle Dean the moment the door opens. 

 

“Hey you,” Dean whispers in a low voice as he pushes inside. He’s in faded blue jeans and a hooded sweatshirt with a leather jacket over it. Castiel has decided that he loves this version of Dean most. The comfortable, attractive, kind man who can make him laugh so hard it hurts. Who makes him feel special. 

 

“Hey.” Castiel wraps his arms around Dean’s neck and gets on his toes to reach his lips. They kiss long and slow, like it’s been more than a day since they last saw each other. “I missed you.”

 

“I missed you too, blue eyes.”

 

Castiel rolls those eyes of his and huffs, “I hate my eyes.”

 

“I know. But I love them.” Dean reaches into his back pocket with a grin. “Speaking of, though, I have a present for you.”

 

“A present?”

 

“Yup.” Dean pulls out a shirt and shakes it out so Castiel can see the whole thing hanging from his hands. It’s a maroon colored shirt with long sleeves. When Dean hands it to him, he feels the fabric and can’t stop himself from smiling. It’s soft. Incredibly soft. And faded, like Dean’s worn it often. “It’ll be big on you, since you’re all tiny and cute and short, but it should be comfortable. And, well, it’s not blue. Figured you might appreciate that.”

 

Castiel gulps, tears burning his eyes. “Dean. You can’t - this can’t -”

 

“I know when the raids are going to be on houses, Cas. I’m the one that plans them. I’ll make sure to take it back before the next one happens for you. You won’t get caught with it, I promise. Keep it.”

 

Clenching the fabric in his hands, Castiel grins up at him, nearly bouncing on his damn feet. “I love it. I love it so much Dean. Thank you.”

 

“You’re welcome.” He pulls him in close and presses a gentle kiss to his lips. “Do I smell food?”

 

“I made you pie. It should be ready to take out, actually.”

 

“Fuck yeah. Is it apple?” 

 

Castiel laughs. He knows that’s Dean’s favorite. He told Castiel all about his childhood and his mom’s cooking, especially her apple pie. There’s no way Castiel’s food is as good as hers but it’ll hopefully be good enough. 

 

Dean pauses when they get into the kitchen, squeezing Castiel’s hand he’s holding. “Wine?” 

 

“Uh, yeah.” Castiel clears his throat, unsure how Dean will feel about that. “My dad kept a few bottles hidden when the initial raids happened. Before the big war.”

 

“Cas, don’t waste one of those on me.”

 

“It isn’t a waste. I was,” Castiel pauses, nervously fiddling with the shirt in his hands. “I was hoping tonight could be special.”

 

“Special?”

 

“Well, you don’t work tomorrow, and neither do I. I thought, maybe, you could,” Castiel gulps. “Spend the night?”

 

Dean’s eyebrows raise as high as possible. “No.” 

 

“But-”

 

“I’ll stay longer if you want, and we can do whatever you want, but not that. I can’t stay here.”

 

Since he knew that was a long shot, Castiel drops it. “Okay, then. Let’s just eat.”

  
  


\-----

  
  


Dean rolls Castiel onto his back, kissing him with a nice open mouth, running his tongue along the interior of it. He tastes like pie.  _ Fucking delicious. _ He pulls away long enough to tear Castiel’s shirt over his head. Then his own. Castiel drags his nails down his back, making Dean groan, then shiver. 

 

They both tense when Castiel’s fingers skim the cold metal of the gun tucked into the back of Dean’s jeans. He doesn’t bring his rifle when he’s off duty like this, but he always brings his pistol. Castiel’s seen it once or twice in flashes but he’s never touched it. 

 

“Sorry,” Castiel whispers, drawing his hand away. 

 

“No, I’m sorry. Shoulda taken it off.” Dean reaches back, pulling the gun out and placing it on the coffee table, the muzzle pointing in the opposite direction of them. 

 

Castiel can’t stop staring at the gun while Dean kisses his way down his neck and chest. He wonders how many people Dean has killed with it, or with any other gun. And how many more Dean has sentenced to death, to be killed by someone else with Dean’s name stamped on it with approval. 

 

“We should go upstairs,” Castiel whispers, still staring at the gun. 

 

“What?” 

 

“Upstairs. Bed.”

 

Dean shakes his head, starting to get off him. “No, Castiel. I said no sleep overs.”

 

“Not to sleep, idiot.” Castiel gets up too and grabs his hand, practically yanking him toward the stairs. “I’m tired of just kissing.” 

 

All the blood in Dean’s body runs south. “Yes. Good. Let’s go.”

 

They practically tumble into the bed together. The last of their clothes comes off in a frantic need to feel skin against skin. Dean shudders the moment they’re down to just boxers, moving his hips in a slow circle, desperate to feel his hard cock against his without all the fabric in the way. 

 

“Have you ever?” Dean asks, shaking hands holding him up so he doesn’t put too much weight on Castiel. 

 

“No.” Castiel nibbles his bottom lip. “I’ve done other stuff, but not that.”

 

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

 

“Oh, I want to. Have,” Castiel looks away, blushing. “Have you?”

 

Dean leans more weight on one hand so he can lift the other, grabbing Castiel’s face and turning it so they’re looking into each other’s eyes. “Yes. With woman. I’ve watched porn, though. Think I can figure it out.”

 

Castiel’s eyes go as wide as saucers. “How did you find gay porn?”

 

Laughing, Dean winks at him. “We find some in raids every once in a while. If I get a chance, I swipe it. Take it home.” 

 

“Holy crap. I wanna see some!”

 

“Psssh, trust me, I’ll be even better. Let me show you.”

 

Nodding, Castiel relaxes again. Dean pulls a condom and a mini bottle of lube out of his back pocket. He goes slow, kissing Castiel breathless while he preps him. By the time his cock is sinking into Castiel, they're both already on the edge. 

 

“Fuck you feel good,” Dean whispers. 

 

“Better than the girls you've been with?” 

 

“Much better.” Dean presses a kiss to his lips, then smiles down at him. “You're the real thing, so it's perfect.”

 

With a shiver, Castiel grabs his face and kisses him again. And again. And again. As the kiss heats up, becoming a flurry of lips and teeth and tongues, Dean's hips move faster and harder. When he feels himself getting close, he wraps a calloused hand around Castiel's cock and starts to pump it in time with his thrusts. 

 

Castiel's back bows off the bed as he comes without meaning to. It feels like Dean tore it from him. A few seconds later, Dean is finishing too. 

 

Dean cleans them up enough for now, then grabs Castiel and holds him to his chest. They lay in a sweaty, breathless heap for a long time. The silence is comfortable at first but Castiel's mind starts to spin, and then the quiet is suffocating. 

 

When Dean leans down at one point to kiss him, Castiel stops him by turning his face away. He can feel his cheeks heating up because he hates feeling vulnerable, but he also needs to protect his heart. This is something he can be killed for. Stoned in the streets. Publicly flogged. Put into the games. He doesn’t know if Dean would get an easier punishment because of his government position, or a harsher one to make an example out of him, but either way, this isn’t something to take lightly. 

 

“I love you, Dean,” he admits on a choked breath.

 

Taking a chance, he looks up at Dean through his lashes. Instead of tensing or panicking like Castiel expected, Dean gives him a slow smile and whispers, “I love you too, Castiel.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Really. Very much so.”

 

“Good.” Castiel takes in a deep, shaking breath and braces himself. Somehow, he’s more nervous for this than he was for admitting his love. “Spend the night with me.. Just one night.” 

 

That’s when the tensing and panicking begins. Dean’s eyes skate away, looking over at the wall. “You know I can’t do that.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“You know why not.”

 

“You can still leave before sunrise. We can set an alarm.”

 

Dean scoffs. “Sunrise is in like two hours, Cas.”

 

“Then a different night. Come earlier than you usually do and spend the night. Just one night with me, Dean. That’s all I’m asking.”

 

“It’s not, though. Because once I do that, you’ll ask again. And again. And I won’t be able to say no because you’re like my fucking weakness. Then one lazy mistake from getting too comfortable and we’re both dead. Or worse.” 

 

“Then we should just end this. Call it off. If it’s not going anywhere, then what’s the point? The longer we keep doing this, we keep pretending, the more it’ll hurt when it’s over.” 

 

Dean gets to his feet and begins to pace, scratching the back of his head. “So, what? This is an ultimatum? I spend the night tonight or we’re done?”

 

Wiping his tears, Castiel sits up and curls in on himself. “No ultimatum. It’s already over. I want this to be over. I want you to leave.”

 

“Cas.”

 

“Please.” 

 

Dean stands in place, staring at him in disbelief. He does this for a full minute while Castiel sits in the same spot and falls apart. When Castiel releases his first sob, Dean swears under his breath. He storms downstairs, Castiel following behind even though it hurts worse to actually watch Dean leaving. Dean grabs his pistol and shoves it into the waistband of his jeans, then yanks his shirt on. He gives Castiel one more look before shaking his head and leaving.

 

The sharp thud of the door closing echoes inside Castiel’s empty chest. He grabs the shirt Dean brought him as a gift and hurries to pull it over his body instead of the blue one he was wearing before. He locks the doors, shuts the lights off, and crawls into his bed beneath the blankets. He starts to cry again when he realizes the shirt smells like Dean; like he wore it before giving it to Castiel. 

 

_ How was he going to survive without Dean? What was the point? _

  
  


\-----

  
  


Dean survives nine days without Castiel. He never patrols. He never goes out into the public. He never leaves his home. He pushes paperwork and answers calls and sentences three people to a public flogging without ever even seeing their faces or hearing their sides of the story. He hates himself every second. He hates this society. He hates the government. He hates his job. He hates his soldiers. He hates Benny. He hates himself some more. 

 

He hates himself so fucking much. 

 

On day ten, he sneaks out of his house just after midnight. He takes the back way into the district to avoid being spotted. He knows everyone’s patrol routes and where all the cameras are, so as long as everyone is doing their job properly, he won’t get caught. 

 

His entire body is violently shaking by the time he’s at Castiel’s door. It’s locked. He pulls out his ring of keys and grabs the master key to the district. Every door in this entire district, even private homes, can be unlocked with this key. Only Dean and the President of Panem has it. It’s an extreme abuse of power to let himself into Castiel’s house, but he’s so far gone it doesn’t matter. All he knows is he  _ has  _ to see him.  _ Now _ . 

 

The lights are off but he finds Castiel still awake, tucked into the corner of the couch with Dean’s baggy maroon shirt on. He stares at the blank TV like there’s actually something playing on the screen. 

 

Dean clears his throat, letting Castiel know he’s not alone. The man slightly perks up and looks over the back of the couch at Dean. His eyes widen but he says nothing. 

 

That’s okay. Dean has his speech planned.

 

“I’m an idiot for ever even considering a life without you. I shouldn’t have left that night, and I’m not leaving tonight. We’re going to figure out how to do this. I don’t care if I have to start a fucking revolution for you. I don’t care if we have to run away. Live in hiding. Me and you, together, is all I want. It’s the most alive I’ve ever felt.”

 

“Dean-”

 

“There was this couple one day, when this first started with us. I watched them on TV as they were marched to the capital. Even with everything being thrown and screamed at them, even though they knew they were literally marching to their death, they were still so in love. You could see it in the way they looked at each other. Like they’d rather be there together than somewhere else alone. It was a nice concept at the time I watched it. Something that made me smile. Something that made me wonder. But now, I understand”

 

“Dean-”

 

“If you me want to go, I’ll go. I’ll never hold my power over you. I swear it. When it comes to us, we’re on equal ground. But you’ll have to tell me to go, because I’m never leaving on my own again. I’m never leaving you. I love you, Castiel. I love you so fucking much. So, if you’ll allow it, I want to be with you.” 

 

Castiel can’t get off the couch fast enough. He launches himself at Dean, wrapping his arms and legs around him, clinging like a damn spider monkey. He buries his face in the crook of his neck and drags his lips along the curve. “I’ve missed you so much. I love you.”

 

“I missed you too,” Dean whispers against his temple. “God, I love you.”

 

“Spend the night with me.. Just one night,” Castiel pleads, afraid of the answer despite Dean’s speech.

 

Pulling away to look Castiel in the eyes, Dean shakes his head. “Not just one night, Cas. As often as possible.” 


End file.
